The Quilt
by Gottahavemyncis
Summary: What happens after Tim learns of his father's illness in "Squall"? Family, team support and friendship with a little surprise. Spoilers: Season 10 "Squall" and "Extreme Prejudice" Huge Thanks to HarmonFreak1 for all her help and patience.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: **

After the murder of Dr. Haber on the U.S.S. Borealis and the arrest of Lt. Carlton Mane, Admiral John McGee's illness was unavoidably revealed to his superiors. At the precise moment the words are spoken aloud, any possibility of whatever cabinet position he had hoped for, and his career in general, is blown away. His responsibilities are reassigned and he is placed on medical leave. His condition is terminal. The Admiral, after many years of hard work and total dedication to the US Navy, to the point of alienating his family, now finds himself seemingly on the outside. Along the way, he finds he has lost his wife and his children have grown up, grown away and flourished without him.

The Admiral and his son, NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee, continue to work on their relationship, trying to put something back together that had been shattered many years before. This is difficult, however, as Gibbs' team is extremely busy with back-to-back cases. Tim does his best to stay in touch with his father and begins to think about what he can do to spend the little time remaining with his father.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1 **

_Opening Phoof:_ Tim, alone in the bullpen. The boss released the team a couple of hours ago and Tony & Ziva are long gone. Gibbs returns from a coffee run and notices his agent still seems to be working on something.

"McGee! I thought I told you all to leave hours ago. You still working?"

"No Boss. I needed to look up something in the HR manual, thought I'd do it from here rather than home."

"Tim…something you want to talk about?"

"Maybe, Boss, now that I've seen what's available. " He continues as Gibbs joins him at his workstation, Tim turns in his chair to face him. "You know my dad and I have been working on things, but we've been so busy here and I just haven't had much time. " At Gibbs' raised eyebrow, Tim gives a small huff, "I know, pretty "Cat's in the Cradle" ironic, huh Boss? The thing is, his health is deteriorating and I've been thinking that as ironic as it is, I do need – and want - to spend more time with him. Even though he's the one that hasn't wanted to be with me, couldn't make the time, couldn't be bothered." He paused. "It's different for me, Boss, as many years as we've been estranged because of his attitude, I'm going to have to live the rest of _my_ life with whatever I can make of this now and I'm not the same as him, I can't just put this aside. Does that make sense?"

Gibbs looks him in the eye. He sees this young man, grown from the green probie into a strong confident agent, a man who, no matter what the personal cost, is determined to do right by his formerly disrespectful and emotionally abusive father. He knows that part of what is driving Tim, aside from the obvious, is the recent death of Ziva's father. Eli David left reconciliation, redemption, too late and there is no more chance for them. He thinks of his mostly successful reconciliation with Jackson and Tony's tentative progress with his father and realizes there is no other choice for Tim. Putting his hand on Tim's shoulder, he gives him a nod and says, "Yeah, Tim, it makes sense. And I think I see where you're headed, but go ahead and lay it out for me."

"According to the manual, there's family leave for situations like this, when there's a … ," Tim took a deep breath, "when there's a terminal illness. As I understand it, I could take this leave and be gone for as long as 6 months and I'd still be regarded as employed by the agency, without pay but guaranteed a job on my return. No guarantees of what or where, but something. Anything longer than 6 months is a different story. However, that means leaving the team Boss, because I don't know how long I'll be gone and that's not fair to you or the others. "

Gibbs thought about losing him from their team. They'd worked hard to stay together and at staying together, all of them; Tim's skills, in and out of the field, would not easily be replaced. Probably never going to find that exact match of electronic intuition and determination. However, none of them were irreplaceable, except to each other on a personal basis. The truth was any one of them could leave for a promotion, another job; another agency or … he stopped that thought.

"What if we could find a middle ground, McGee?" He finally said. "Call it consulting that you can do for us – you know, your electronic stuff – that you could do from home or wherever you are that's secure. You would also be paid for your consulting. That way, you can be with your father and be available to the team when we absolutely have to have you on the case. On a day to day basis, we'll work with Cybercrimes. When they're stuck we'll call you in, although not into the office. You think you could make that work?"

At the other man's relieved nod, Gibbs continued, "No promises, I'll have to talk with the Director. If we get the ok, how soon do you want to start your leave?"

"As soon as possible, Boss."

Gibbs nodded, gave him a quick squeeze of the shoulder and then started to head upstairs. Stopping, he turned and said, "Need coffee first. You head out, McGee, that's an order. Go home, get some rest, been a long day. This might take more than a few hours to get approval. "

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

By the following Monday, Timothy McGee found himself semi-officially on family leave, while being on call for consulting work with his team. Director Vance had somehow wrangled both Human Resources and the Legal Department into this; Tim really did not want to know how. The Admiral was pleased and a bit humbled that Tim was making the effort to be with him after the crappy way he had treated him most of his life. Relieved that his son would not be giving up his career, he was secretly impressed that the Agency had been willing to make the special arrangement and resolved to let Tim know.

Tim's first day away felt strange from the start. He woke at his normal time with nowhere to go for several hours. He would be picking up his father for an early lunch and then a drive out to the shore. Tim's great grandfather McGee had long ago built a beach cottage that was still in the family. None of them had been there in years, usually renting it out. Now John McGee wanted to visit the cottage.

After puttering around his apartment, frequently checking his phone messages and working on his current book, Tim finished dressing and left to pick up his father. He gave himself permission to be 5 minutes early but no more than that. His father was waiting for him but there was no sign of his usual impatience and Tim even got a smile when he rolled up in his Porsche. _Or maybe_, thought Tim, _the Porsche got the smile! _

As his father folded himself into the car, he commented, "Nice ride, son, I wanted one of these once upon a time." At Tim's look of astonishment, the Admiral gave a dry chuckle, "I wasn't always an Admiral, Tim. As a young officer, hell as a teenager, I would have done anything to have such a hot car."

Tim gave himself a shake, having a hard time imagining his stern poker-faced father as a teenager. Then he remembered his Boss, who also usually sported a poker face, racing out of Stillwater in his bright yellow muscle car, a huge grin on his face. His father glanced at him, "You can't picture me as a teenager or wanting the car?" Tim just shook his head with a small grin.

Lunch was at a restaurant frequented by Navy brass; John was missing "his people". Tim was not crazy about the idea, but things were going well so far. He was surprised, perhaps even astounded when his father introduced him to his friends with a note of pride in his voice. Several remembered a much younger Tim, were happy to see father and son together and to have a chance to get re-acquainted. Although lunch went well, it also went longer than planned and Tim could see his father tiring. Rather than bring attention to his father's condition, he surreptiously pressed the "fake phone call" app on his cell phone. As his phone vibrated with the fake incoming call, he told his father he needed to take it in private and left the table. Returning shortly, he informed the Admiral that they would need to leave as he had his first consult. His father, motioning to his son, said to his friends, "You'll excuse me, gentlemen, but my son is needed!"

As they pulled out of the parking lot, John leaned towards Tim, "Thanks, kiddo. I really enjoyed that." Tim eyed his father, "Do you mind if we go to the cottage another day, Dad? Tomorrow would work for me."

"Let's make it day after tomorrow, Tim. I have a couple of appointments tomorrow."

"Ok, how about I drive you?"

"Yeah son, I'd like that. " After discussing times, the rest of the ride home was comfortably silent. When they reached the house, John sat for a minute, gathering the words he wanted to say to his son.

"Tim, wanted to tell you that I'm impressed by your Agency being so accommodating with your leave; with the consulting. That tells me how much they value you and I'm damn proud, even though I'm not sure I have that right. "

Tim's jaw dropped and he sat speechless as his father climbed out of the Porsche, patting the door affectionately. "Like this car, Timothy, glad you decided to treat yourself! See you at 0900!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

As things turned out, it was the end of the week before they drove to the cottage. The lunch and John's appointments had exhausted him so he took an extra day to rest. Tim joined him for an early dinner both days, enjoying some quiet time with his father. While things were going well between them and he was still blown away by his father's two-fold admission of pride and being impressed, Tim was reluctant to open up any further with the Admiral. _Baby steps_, he told himself, taking a page out of DiNozzo's playbook. The second evening he was at his father's, he got a genuine call for help from Gibbs. Between his phone and ever-present laptop, he was able to dig through an electronic mess of folders and files to find information the team could use, his father watching discreetly behind him. Later that night as he was leaving his father's house, he received a text from Tony that the dirtbag had been caught, thanks in part to the information he had provided. His father, catching his son's smile, asked, "Good news?" "Yes, they captured the dirtbag; ah the perpetrator, with plenty of evidence." "And your work tonight helped them do that, didn't it son?" "Yeah Dad, it did." "I'm proud of you, Timothy and I regret ever thinking you were wasting your time or not working to your potential. You really enjoy this, don't you? "

Tim looked thoughtfully at his father. He had waited half his life to hear those words; he just wanted to savor them for a minute. Then he gave his father a big cheeky grin, "Yeah Dad, I do. After all, who's going to take care of the bad guys?" His father chuckled, recognizing his reference, and then asked if this latest case was one that would be included in the next adventure of L.J. Tibbs. At the jaw drop and look of utter amazement on his son's face, John laughed until it drove him into a coughing fit. After Tim hastily brought a glass of water, he breathed easier and told his son that Penny and Sarah had tag teamed him to make sure he read Tim's first book and he had put himself on automatic purchase for the others. Tim wondered why, if his father could stand to read his books, the man had never reached out to him before his illness and the case that threw them together.

Considering John's fluctuating energy levels, father and son decided to make their trip to the cottage an overnighter. After checking to ensure the place was empty of tenants and had internet capability, the two men took their overnight bags; John's with all his medications and had a leisurely drive. The property manager had been in to air out the place, even stocking a few groceries. The pair reached their destination in early afternoon and after tucking their bags away, stretched their legs with a walk on the beach. Returning to the cottage, they ate the lunch they had brought with them and then John headed to his room for a rest. Tim took the time to poke around the place, having not visited since his early teens. Relying on his memory, Tim found the secret release for a locked cabinet and chuckled at the treasures inside. A few rather ancient board games, some that he remembered being from his grandfather, although he suspected the hand carved chess 'n' checker set was from his great grandparents, a baby doll passed along to a very young Sarah from a great aunt and somehow left behind, and a treasured quilt, made by his great grandmother specifically for the cottage, wrapped carefully against the damp and dust. He removed the quilt and laid it carefully over the sofa so his father would see it when he got up from his nap.

Tim then inventoried the kitchen to see what he could pull together for dinner. He laughed to himself at the pile of takeout menus near the ancient phone; if there was any one thing he did not miss from work it was all the takeout. Finding the key ingredients for a favorite pasta dish and, bless the property manager, a fresh loaf of bakery bread, he quickly washed the pans and utensils he needed. Humming softly to himself, he started prepping the vegetables and herbs. As he finished his prep work, he realized his father had been asleep for nearly three hours; grinning to himself, he pulled a bag of freshly ground coffee out of the refrigerator and made their first pot of coffee. As anticipated, the smell of the fresh brew pulled his father from sleep just as the coffeemaker finished its cycle. Hearing the bedroom door open, Tim reached the living area at the same time as his father, handing the man a mug full of the deep rich nectar. Navy coffee, remarkably similar to Marine coffee. The two men took their mugs to the front porch where they sat quietly enjoying their beverage. After a few minutes, John started talking.  
"I was just a baby when I first came here – as you were when you came along – the first trip I actually remember, I must have been 4 or 5. My grandparents always stayed here for the summer, my grandfather was retired by then and he hated being away from the ocean. My dad was pretty busy with his Navy career, sometimes he came with us, sometimes he visited us while we were here. Sometimes he never made it. Huh…" turning to look at his son, he continued, "sound familiar? Anyway, my grandparents always bought local fruits and vegetables and my grandmother canned them and made the most wonderful pies, jams and jellies. A lost art, I imagine. Nana and Pop had their routine and we pretty much followed it when we were here. A walk on the beach in the morning after breakfast, before it got too hot. We were allowed to play at the water line and get our feet wet, but no swimming before lunch, don't know why, maybe fewer cleanups of sandy, wet kids. Then back to cleaning up the cottage, doing the dishes, making the bed, whatever other chores Nana had for us, then we'd play on the porch for a while or we'd go for a walk in the woods. Sometimes I'd even get to go out to the pond, you remember the pond, Tim?" Tim nodded slowly; yeah he vaguely remembered a pond. "Pop and my dad would let me go fishing with them and we'd bring home dinner. Other times, we'd have a light lunch and then have to wait an entire hour before we could finally go swimming. We kids would spend the whole afternoon swimming in the ocean, playing in the waves, pretending to be all sorts of sea creatures. Whichever adult was with us, usually Nana and my mom, sometimes one of the great aunts, would prop up an umbrella and yell at us not to go out too far. At some point we had to get out to have a rest under the umbrella, but we were always allowed to go back in. "

"Sounds almost magical, Dad. I'd like to include that in one of my books."

"LJ Tibbs in the ocean? How would you make that work, son?"

"I'm spreading my wings with the writing, Dad; I actually have an outline ready for a children's book after I finish the next Deep Six."

"That would work!"

"Do you have more stories about your grandparents and their lives here? Do you know why they decided to build here? Did they ever live here fulltime? I don't know much about them."

"I've got plenty more stories, Tim, you sure you want to hear about those old days? No computers or anything electronic…hell there was barely electricity in the cottage!"

"Yeah, I do, Dad. I hope to have my own children some day and I'd like to have that family knowledge, the stories, the flavor they give to a kid's imagination."

John put his coffee mug down and looked thoughtfully at his son. "I know you'll be a better father than I've been, son. When you bring your kids here, I hope you do pass along the stories; you have a wonderful gift with words. I'm glad you're putting them to good use with your writing."

Tim felt his heart pound and his ears redden as he gave his dad a shy smile. "Thanks!"

After another cup of coffee and a few more stories, Tim completed making their dinner and the two sat down to enjoy the meal. They shared cleanup duties and then Tim pulled out the chess 'n' checkers set he'd found in the family cabinet.

"Dad, I found this in the locked cabinet, do you remember where it came from?"

"Let me see, Tim. I believe my grandfather made these, if I remember right, there should be a…" John turned the chessboard to the back, "yes, here it is, your great grandfather carved his initials and the date in the wood when he made the board and pieces."

"Wow, Dad, that's amazing!"

Examining the carefully carved chess and checker pieces, along with the board, they set it up and played a couple of games of checkers. As they finished their second game, Tim eyed the coffeemaker. John laughed softly and shook his head.  
"You may not be Navy, son, but you sure drink coffee like a sailor!"

"Not a sailor, Dad; I've been working with a Marine for 10 years, more like a leatherneck!"

Both men chuckled and John rose from the armchair.  
"I'm turning in, this has been great today. Tomorrow, how about we follow Nana's routine – beach walk in the morning, swim in the afternoon?"

"You want to stay an extra day, Dad?" "I'd like to son, if you do."  
"Yeah, I'd really like that!"

The Admiral paused at the sofa and looked quizzically at Tim. "That's the quilt Nana made for this place. You found it in the family cabinet?"

"Yeah and it's in great shape, I thought you might want to use it while we're here."

"I will, thanks, haven't seen this since you were a baby, just learning to walk. Your mother was afraid that your cousins would ruin it, so she packed it away."

"Sarah and I used it, Dad; I guess just not when you were with us."

"Tim, I…tomorrow, I have some things I need to discuss with you."

"Ok, Dad. Maybe in the hour we have to wait between eating lunch and swimming?" Tim said, trying to lighten his father's mood. It worked; his father gave him a smile and patting his son on the shoulder, gathered up his Nana's quilt and headed to bed. Tim spent a few hours on his laptop, checking his e-mail and then doing some writing, capturing the stories his father had told him that afternoon while they were still fresh in his mind. When he finally fell asleep that night, it was to dream of a small boy, playing in the waves while two women watched from under an umbrella.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

They left the cottage reluctantly, on the third morning, after wonderfully soft sunny hours spent mostly on the beach and the front porch. They'd even made it to the pond, and the old family cemetery where Tim's great grandparents, the original builders of the cottage, were buried. During their stay, they'd had the talk John requested. Both men found it difficult but necessary as Tim's father told him more about his illness and treatment, his acknowledgement that he'd waited too long to seek medical help, fearing it would throw a wrench into his career plans, his wishes for his last days and any funerary services. He had no worries about his mother or his daughter, he told Tim, as he knew his son was very close to both women and already looked out for them, when they allowed it. Tim was shocked when John admitted he had not yet told his mother or daughter of his illness. Now that he was on medical leave, he knew it was time to let them and his former wife know and he promised Tim he would do so as soon as they returned home. He further shocked Tim by again acknowledging how proud he was of his accomplishments; the man knew more about his son's life than that son had ever dared dream.

Following "the talk", John continued to fill Tim's head with more stories, which he later captured on his laptop. To Tim's surprise and delight, the Admiral turned the tables on him and wanted to know more about Tim's writing and his work at NCIS, asking him to tell him about some of the cases not featured in his books. Tim spent a few hours telling his dad about some of the stranger and sometimes amusing, in a dark humor sort of way, things that had happened to the team. The koala on the submarine was an instant hit with John. When his father wanted to know what he wasn't telling him, Tim just shook his head. "Can't talk about everything, Dad, you know that. I can tell you I lost a teammate to a terrorist my first year on the team."

"So your team gets sent out of the country?"

"Yeah, sometimes; some or all of the team have been to Puerto Rico, Gitmo, Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq, Mexico, Israel, Columbia, oh and Canada. But this happened in Norfolk." Tim noticed his father's eyes widen a bit.

"Tim, I had no idea you'd be handling things like that. I thought the FBI and DHS would take those cases."

"From Leroy Jethro Gibbs? Not going to happen, Dad. And in that case, none of the other agencies bel…" Tim suddenly snapped his mouth shut, feeling he was too close to divulging classified information.

His father gave him a knowing grin and shook his head.  
"Stopped yourself in time, did you?"

Tim nodded. Giving himself a mental shake, he resumed his storytelling with the case of the corpse found smoked in the furnace chimney at Quantico. At a team dinner, Gibbs had taken great delight telling them about Fornell's speechlessness when meeting the widow. Later in the case, the three field agents had been in Observation during the interrogation of that same widow and Tim enjoyed seeing his father's eyes once again widen as he wove the story of the missing toe.

"So you do work with the FBI? I hadn't realized that."

"Yes sir; FBI, DHS, NSA, CIA, ONI, Great Britain's MI6, Israel's Mossad, not to mention our sister agency CGIS and occasionally Army CID."

"I had no idea NCIS would be so …versatile! When you work with those other agencies, they have the lead then?"

Tim started laughing, he laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. His father, having no idea what had tickled his funny bone simply sat, enjoying his son's merriment. The younger man finally stopped and wiped his eyes.

"Oh Dad. Would you give up the lead? Unless ordered to do so, of course."

"Hell no!"

"Dad…you and Gibbs, so much alike. Other agencies hate working with us; they know Gibbs is going to take the lead, whether it's officially his or not. Unless he's given a direct order, then he plays nice. Nice-ish. One time the FBI got a bug up their butts about our Director and they shut us down, all of HQ, we weren't allowed to investigate or even really know what they were fishing for. This was Fornell again – he was involved in the Norfolk terrorist case, and he is actually a good friend of Gibbs since they were married to the same woman; they brought in the NCIS Assistant Director to club Gibbs into submission. Did that stop my boss? No, he just moved the investigation offsite; we hid out in his basement investigating the FBI, using ancient equipment and photos of an autopsy - and we figured it out! The FBI was still chasing their tails while we figured it out. Of course, it was the CIA that had done the dirty deed – this was the murder of one of the largest arms dealers in the world."

His father sat up straighter than ever, jaw dropped, staring at him. "Ok, murder of the world's largest arms dealer…is one thing, what did your director have to do with that? "

"Maybe nothing, never have been sure, but she had some sort of grudge against the guy for years and Tony, you know, my teammate, had been undercover dating the arms dealer's daughter for nearly a year. And then his car blew up and…"

John interrupted, "Maybe nothing? And dating the daught...whose car, the arms dealer's?"

"No, Tony's, but he wasn't in it, although we didn't know that until later that day. We thought he was dead until Ducky found out the dead guy had never had the plague like Tony had. Nobody's ever said it officially, but the CIA blew up his car, although the guy we usually get stuck working with denied it."

"The _plague_? Tony's had the _plague_ and his car, a Federal Agent's car, was blown up by the CIA?"

"Yeah, some nutjob dying of a brain tumor was mad at General Westmoreland, so she sent NCIS an envelope full of plague virus and Tony was the lucky one to open it. The car? Maybe…nobody's admitting anything really. But Tony hates the guy, hell, we all hate the guy!"

"Westmoreland? He retired years ago and he's been dead for nearly a decade. And who do you hate… the CIA guy?"

"Yeah, although we haven't seen him since the Port to Port killer case, when he lost an eye – he was the guy's handler and things got way out of control..." Tim paused, remembering, "We lost another teammate during that case, extended family really. He was Gibbs' first boss at NCIS, still his mentor, best friend – still called Gibbs his Probie - we all loved that cowboy. When Gibbs was blown up, Mike Franks came up from Mexico and helped him get his head straight. After Gibbs quit, he went and stayed with Mike for a few months while he recovered from the explosion. Mike was kind of like an ornery great uncle to the rest of us. He was murdered by the P2P killer." He stopped, giving himself a moment to remember the man they'd relied on to come to Gibbs' rescue when things got too crazy.

"Unbelievable, the plague, explosions, serial killers, people losing eyes, cars blowing up, terrorists. Son, you would have had a more peaceful life in the Navy!" His father said, laughing. "And please, _please_, go back to Gibbs and Fornell being married to the same woman! I have _got_ to know about that."

Pulling out of his memories of Mike Franks, and once again amazed at this new relaxed, _laughing_ man who at least physically resembled his father, the 'stiff as a stick' Admiral, Tim filled John in on the few publicly known details he knew about Gibbs & Diane, Fornell, Diane & their daughter, and Diane & her current husband, here he crossed his fingers behind his back, hopefully still her husband! When he stopped, his father shook his head, saying, "I'm not sure what amazes me more, the Diane stories or your case stories, but oh no, she was in one of your cases!" He caught a strange expression passing quickly through those green eyes in front of him, "What, there's something you're not telling me? Is it classified?" He noticed the tell, his kid's ears were turning bright red. "Oh HO, Timothy! Tell me!" Tim drew a deep breath and as succinctly as possible, told his father of the second case involving Diane Sterling, skipping merrily over the details of his non-involvement with the woman. Because really, nothing happened.

"My God, this is the stuff that doesn't get in your books! I don't even want to think about the classified cases! And what about you, son? Aside from Diane, have you had any unusual 'adventures' during a case?"

"Got mauled by a drug dog stuffed full of cocaine," Tim pulled up the sleeve on his left arm, showed the scar; pulling the sleeve back down, he reached for the neckline of his shirt and pulled down the right side to display that scar, "here and here. Waded in a hot tub full of bugs and a rotting body, fell off a roof, oh," here he chuckled, "chased a suspect through a carwash, told off a deputy Secretary of State, helped Gibbs disarm a bomb, helped find a mole uh somewhere, a couple of moles, actually, pulled Tony up off the railing of the 5th floor of a parking garage – huh, that was another mole, took lead and solved a case involving a murdered guy who'd apparently flown his jet pack while dead, was given a personal death threat by a drug cartel in Mexico, held hostage in a prison riot, got pepper sprayed in that – solved a murder that day too, got tortured while avenging a teammate in …not important where, got impaled by shards of glass when NCIS HQ was blown up last year. " He paused and noticed the Admiral's eyes were so wide they threatened to fall out. " It's rarely dull! I love that we stop the bad guys from hurting you, Dad, the Navy, the Marines and their families. The level of satisfaction that brings to me – to the whole team – is well worth the risks."

"You have had a few 'adventures', son, and some that sound pretty frightening even to this tough old sailor. I am very grateful you haven't been seriously injured or killed… pulling Tony up, have you gotten over your fear of heights?" Tim shook his head and the Admiral continued, "I did _not_ know you were injured in that explosion, Timothy, Penny never mentioned it."

"I didn't tell Penny or Sarah, Dad. Gibbs was with us at the hospital and I only had to stay at Bethesda for a few days to make sure I didn't have any latent blast injuries, since on our floor at NCIS I was the only survivor that close to the bomb. When no other injuries manifested and a lot of other people were badly hurt or killed, I just told her I was fine." He smirked at his father, "She didn't ask for any details so I didn't give her any."

"I know I've said this a few times in the last few weeks, Tim, I'll just keep saying it. I am so proud of you, the man you've become and the work you do. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm grateful you didn't cave into my demands, that you didn't listen to me and followed your own path." Standing, he gave his son a strong hug.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

After Tim took him home, helping him, under protest, with his bag and the quilt he had brought back from the cottage, John laid down for a rest. He was more exhausted than he would let on; he was also experiencing more pain than he should be. He wanted to sleep but his mind was whirling with his son, his grownup Timothy. He finally gave in, taking another pain pill and then put a call into his doctor, leaving a message. Eventually the medication kicked in and he slept.

Tim reached his apartment and was just unpacking when his cell buzzed with the Marine Hymn. Tim dug it out of his pocket and answered. "Need some help, Boss?"

"Yeah, Tim, we got a kidnapped young girl. You still at the beach?"

"No, just got home. I'm just firing up the laptop now, Boss. Tony or Ziva sending me the info?"

"Didn't get called in till she'd been gone for several hours. Cybercrimes didn't come through, need you on this _**now**_!"

"On it Boss" Tim replied to a disconnected call. The e-mails with the details he needed to start his searches soon arrived from his teammates and as he read the information, Tim realized how glad he was that he could still do part of his job while also being with his father. Jumping in with both feet, he set up both his agency laptop and, having received permission, his personal laptop. He ran multiple searches on each device, sending IMs to his teammates when he needed more information and finally when he had the results they needed. Shortly after 4 AM he received a text from Tony, letting him know that the information he'd provided had helped break the case and the child had been rescued, unharmed.

A few minutes later as he was finally winding down, he received another text, this one from Ziva, asking if he'd like to have a late breakfast with her. She wasn't due back at work until mid afternoon. Tim replied yes and got a quick answer with time. Tim lay back down on his bed but this time his inability to sleep was due to more pleasant thoughts than the case. He eventually drifted off, to dream again of a small boy playing in the waves, this time the two people watching from under the umbrella might have been Ziva and him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

Several hours later, as he dressed to meet Ziva, he called his father for a quick check in. When the Admiral answered, he sounded nearly as tired as he had the day before. When Tim inquired about his sleep the night before, the man snapped at him in his old manner. Tim, taken aback, had to fight the urge to resort to his old response to his demanding father, to shut down. Shaking his head at how easily he'd slipped back into the old pattern, he questioned his father again. With the few seconds of dead silence from his son, John realized what he'd done and quickly cleared the air. As much as he hated sharing personal information, John had begun to see that his son needed and deserved full disclosure about his condition. Sighing now, he told Tim of the changes in his energy and levels of pain. Before Tim could ask, John also revealed he'd left a message for his doctor the previous evening.

"Dad, I'll come over, I just need to make a call and then I'm on my way."

"No, son, that's not necessary right now. Wait until I hear back from the doctor, then I'll call you…" the Admiral hesitated, "Tim, do you have something planned for this morning? I don't want you to cancel it!"

"I'm having brunch with Ziva, Dad, but we can resche…"

Before he could finish his thought, his father interrupted him, "No no, Tim, you keep your date with Ziva; that sounds like fun." He paused, "Why is she not at work?"

"Got a case right after I got home, Dad, they broke it around 4 this morning. They don't have to report in til later this afternoon. "

"I see; did you work on the case as well, Timothy?"

Tim smirked at his father's new curiosity about his work.

"Yes sir. I had both laptops running for a few hours."

"I'm sure Gibbs will say this too, but well done, son, I'm proud of you!"

"Thanks Dad, but this is what I do. I'm not handling anything differently, just doing my job."

John shook his head as they ended their call with his promise to call his son if he needed anything. He stood in his kitchen, wondering what kind of jackass he'd been to miss what was in front of his face all these years. His son was all any father could hope to have and he'd treated him like dirt. And who did he need to thank for this man, the son he'd hurt more than helped? He knew his mother Penny had been a big influence, although he doubted she'd been terribly excited about his going into law enforcement. Sitting with his coffee, he sadly realized that apart from Penny, he had no idea who his son's mentors had been, although he did have an inkling that Gibbs played a bigger part in his kid's life than Tim had revealed. That gave him hope that Gibbs would step in when Tim needed him, after he was gone. He thought about calling the man and asking, but put it off for now. He hadn't yet contacted Penny and that should be his priority. First, however, he was going to enjoy his coffee.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

Hanging up with the Admiral, Tim paused for a deep breath, trying to process the news that his father's condition might have worsened over the last few days. Rolling his shoulders to relieve some of this newest tension, he grabbed his keys and left to pick up Ziva. Quickly reaching her apartment, he knocked on her door, again rolling his shoulders, trying to let this go so they can have a relaxing and enjoyable meal together. It is not every day he gets to spend any time alone with Ziva and before the chat with his father he had really been looking forward to it.

Ziva being Ziva knew that something had changed as soon as she opened her door and saw Tim.

"What is wrong, Timothy? Has something happened to your father? You should have called me, we could have rescheduled!"

"No, Ziva, I mean yes, something's happened with the Admiral, but he doesn't think it's critical and there's no reason we can't enjoy ourselves. " He paused and Ziva waited, knowing the explanation was forthcoming.

"We spent a few days down at the shore and he was doing fine, well, for his condition. But he's still exhausted after 12 hours sleep and his pain level has increased. He's waiting for his doctor to call him back. If he needs anything, he promised he'll call me."

"If you are sure, Timothy." Tim blinked at that, he could not remember Ziva ever calling him by his whole first name and that was the second time this morning. Ducky was the only one who did that. In fact Ziva usually called him McGee, rarely Tim much less Timothy.

"I am, Ziva, thank you. Are you ready, because I'm hungry!" Settling into the Porsche, he started them on their way, asking, "I noticed you called me Timothy, Ziva, is there a reason for that? Not that I'm complaining!" He finished with a smile towards her.

"It just felt right. I know I usually call you McGee and I would like to change that, at least outside of work. Saying Timothy feels more complete somehow." She smiled back at him and Tim felt a happy little zing, wondering if this brunch, the name change and the comment about 'outside of work' was her way of saying she wanted more than friendship. He had been attracted to her for years but had always believed her to be "off limits", between Rule 12 and well, other considerations. After a short drive, they reached the small restaurant Ziva had suggested, parked, entered the building and found a cozy booth in a quiet nook. They ordered coffee and tea, picking up their menus, which had some items that puzzled Ziva.

"I do not understand what this is, Timothy. What is "chicken fried" steak? How can a steak be a chicken?"

Tim tried not to laugh as he explained that it was indeed beefsteak but was prepared in somewhat the same way as fried chicken.

"The other thing I don't understand is Canadian bacon. Why is it not just called Canadian ham? It seems to bear little resemblance to bacon."

Tim did laugh this time, "Ziva, I've never understood that myself. I guess it's just a tradition that has persisted through the years. I do know that the term "Canadian Bacon" can refer to two products: back bacon and smoked ham. How and why, ya got me!"

She smiled back at him, happy with his laugh and more relaxed tone. They chatted a little more about obtuse traditions in both the US and Israel, until the server gently interrupted to take their order. While they waited for their food, the focus shifted from tradition to Tim's time with his father at the cottage.

"It was amazing, Ziva, he told me so much about my grandparents and great grandparents and his own time as a child at the cottage. We walked to the pond where he fished with his father and grandfather; I found a chessboard and pieces that were carved by my great grandfather – has his initials on the back of the board. And the quilt, he had all kinds of stories about the quilt his grandmother made just for the cottage. So many stories – I wrote them all down. "

"And what are you going to do with them now that they're written down, Timothy?" Ziva asked, her eyes sparkling.

"My next books are going to be for children, Ziva. You know," Tim suddenly blushed, "someday I hope to have my own kids and I want them to know that part of their heritage. In the meantime, I hope other kids will enjoy knowing these stories, how children are really fundamentally the same no matter where or in what year they're born."

Ziva's reply was interrupted by the arrival of their server with food and they eagerly tucked in to their delicious smelling meals. As Tim finished his meal, he leaned back and watched Ziva eat.

"Do you have any stories from your childhood, Ziva? From your family? I'd love to give my books a more global feel, to let kids know how children in other countries view things."

"That is a wonderful idea, Mc…Timothy! Yes, I do have a few stories and I can ask my Aunt Nettie for more, I know she is the keeper of the David family lore. I may be able to find some from my mother's family as well. And perhaps others will have stories to contribute?"

"Yeah, that's a great idea; maybe I'll give Jack…" Tim's thought was interrupted by the tones of 'Anchors Aweigh'. "That's my dad." Ziva gave him a nod indicating to go ahead with the call.

"Hi Dad. Did you hear from the doctor?" Tim paused and listened, "Yes, we've had a great time and we're just finishing eating. What did the doc…" He stopped as his father replied, "He's scheduled me for a new MRI and blood tests tomorrow, Tim; in the meantime, he's upped my prescription."

"Ok, I'll go pick that u…"

"No need, son. The doctor arranged for a delivery from the pharmacy. They said it would be here in an hour or so."

Tim looked at Ziva and hooked his eyebrow; she gave a quick nod.

"Ziva and I will swing by, Dad, while you're waiting for the delivery. I was telling her about the Cottage quilt; she'd love to see it."

Tim pulled the phone away as his father snorted in his ear. "I'm sure, son, all right, just come check on your old man and bring your girl…" Tim interrupted, "Dad!"

"All right, Timothy, no need to burst a blood vessel, I'll behave myself." John chuckled as he hung up. He remembered Agent David and if she was interested in his son he would be quite happy. He chuckled again, he was sure his son would be even happier. Now that he was no longer running the Navy, and he snorted to himself at his sense of self-importance, his mind was turning to other things, one of those being the future of his family. While he waited for his son and new girl…no teammate, he had _promised_ to behave, he started writing his latest "to do" list.

He really needed to speak with his mother and daughter; they'd left on their prolonged vacation before the case that had brought his son back to him, or rather him back to his son, and knew nothing of his illness. He'd told Tim he intended to contact them when they returned from the cottage and he'd put it off. With the worsening of his condition, he now had a sense that telling them sooner rather than later would be a good idea.

After Timothy's visit he'd figure out where Penny and Sarah were in their itinerary and call them. He was dreading the call but as a Naval Officer, retired Naval Officer he reminded himself, he had to do difficult things all the time. He would just pull out his brass…no, that wouldn't work, never had with his mother. He put it on a mental back burner as he spied the Porsche powering up the driveway. Opening it, he waited until the car was parked with Tim opening the car door for Ziva and called out, "Think you should hide the Porsche, son, the pharmacy guy might decide to trade in whatever he's driving!"

Tim smirked at his father as he and Ziva met him at the front door. "Dad, you remember Ziva David, my teammate."

Ziva quickly interjected, "Teammate and friend, Timothy! It is good to see you again, Admiral."

"And you, Ms David. I'm glad you were available to come along with Tim; I understand you're interested in my grandmother's quilt?"

"It is Ziva, please. And yes, Timothy has told me of the quilt and some of the stories you shared with him. As a fairly new American citizen, I am quite interested in the culture and history, things outside of the history books."

John gave a chuckle and a nod. "Well said, young lady!" He walked them into the house and disappeared upstairs to fetch the quilt. When he returned, the three of them sat while he told her another story he had remembered about the quilt. Unbeknownst to either of them, both Tim and Ziva found themselves daydreaming of a future with the quilt shared between them. John, seeing the faraway look in both sets of eyes, smiled to himself and continued his story.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

The bell rang, interrupting him and Tim jumped up to answer the door, finding the pharmacy deliveryman on the doorstep. He signed for the new prescription and brought them back to his dad. As he did, Ziva's phone buzzed; grabbing it she looked at the caller id and mouthed "Gibbs". She listened briefly, then disconnected.

Tim started to ask her whether they had a new case when his phone blared the Marine Hymn. Ignoring his father's laughter, he answered. "Yeah Boss?"

"McGee, when you bring Ziva to the office, want you to come in for a few minutes. That going to interfere with anything with your dad?"

"No Boss" Click, the call was disconnected.

Tim shrugged, looking at Ziva. "Even when he's in a decent mood! Did you tell him we were together, I mean, about brunch today or just now, by any chance?"

"No, I told nobody, Timothy. It is nobody's business but our own. And Gibbs simply told me to get into the office now rather than later, he did not give me a chance to respond. "

Both of them rolled their eyes as Tim said, "Well he knew we are together, he said when I bring you in, he wants me to come in too." John chuckled again, "Maybe he's psychic!" And was surprised to see both Tim and Ziva look at him, frowning.

"We've wondered about that, Dad. Abby has been convinced for years that he's psychic."

"Yes, McG…Timothy, but she also thinks he is magic."

Tim shook his head with a slight laugh. "Guess we'd better get going. He probably knows right where we are… Ziva, he wouldn't have tracked your cell, would he?"

"I do not believe he knows how to do that and he would have no reason to have Abby do it. No matter, come, we will question Abby and Tony later."

She reached her hand out in farewell to the Admiral, only to be pulled in for a soft hug. Tim also received a hug as he walked out the door. He opened the car door for Ziva and shut it afterwards. Before he could walk around the car to the driver's side, his father called out, "Watch out for the bad guys, son!" Tim looked at him, suddenly not wanting to leave, but his father waved his hands in a shooing motion.

From the Admiral's home it was just a short drive to the Navy Yard; both were silent, Tim thinking about his father and the illness that would take him too soon and Ziva, concerned for Tim. As they parked, she put her hand on Tim's. He covered it with his other hand, "Sorry Ziva, got a little lost in my thoughts there. I had a wonderful time today; I hope we can do it again soon."

"I too had a wonderful time, Timothy and yes, I would like that very much."  
"You're off this weekend, right? Not even on call?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"How about I cook you dinner, at my place?"

"That sounds good, Timothy, and I will bring dessert!"

Glancing around, they saw they were not near any security cameras nor were there any passersby. Leaning in, Tim kissed Ziva on the lips, something he had been wanting to do for so long. It was a brief kiss, and with the response from Ziva, Timothy knew he was not alone in his feelings.

They broke, smiling softly at each other.

"Guess we'd better get upstairs before Gibbs figures this out too!"

"Yes, we had better."

With wide smiles on their faces, they hurried to the elevator, once inside Ziva punched the button for their floor. During the brief ride, each managed to find some level of composure. Tim knew he was usually an open book to Gibbs and sometimes to DiNozzo, so he deliberately turned his thoughts to his father. Ziva of course had no problems with her face but was aware her eyes might still give her away. She channeled her inner Mossad operative as the elevator doors opened near the bullpen. Striding out, trying not to walk in step, they spotted the reason for Gibbs' call. The young girl they had rescued early this morning stood in the bullpen, along with her parents, chatting with Director Vance, Gibbs and DiNozzo. As Vance spotted them approaching, he motioned to them, "Here come Special Agents Ziva David and Timothy McGee, the rest of the team that brought you home!" The youngster had already met Ziva, so smiled at her, and looked up at Tim. "I don't remember you, were you there?"  
Smiling back at her, he answered, "No, I was on a computer helping these guys look for you."

Gibbs gave him a half smirk, half glare as he said to the girl and her parents, "Don't be fooled, he may not have been with us physically, but he was definitely on the case providing us with the information we needed to bring your daughter home." The Director and DiNozzo both gave their own nods of agreement as Tim felt his ears redden. He excused himself as his phone vibrated.

"Mr. McGee?"  
"Yes, this is McGee. Who's this?"

"Sir, my name is Jeff and I'm an EMT. We were called to your father's house and we're treating him prior to taking him to Bethesda. He's insisting on speaking with you. I need to tell you first, that he's experiencing shortness of breath, so please encourage him to let us give him oxygen. I'm going to pass him the phone now."

"Timm… so..rr..y, wai..ted too lo..ng, wi..sh mo..re time. Lo..ve you."

"I love you too, Dad and we will have more time, you need to let the EMTs help you. I'll meet you at Bethesda, I'll call Penny and Sarah, I'll see you in a few minutes."

The EMT apparently took the phone back, "We're putting an oxygen mask on him now, sir."

"Good, thank you. I'll meet him at the hospital."

Disconnecting the call, he stood silently trying to catch his own breath. A hand on his shoulder squeezed gently, "Anything we can do, Tim?"

"Boss, I don't know. Yes, actually, the EMTs are taking my dad to Bethesda, the house probably needs to be locked up and I need…Boss I need to get to him."

"No worries, Tim" this came from Ziva, "I'll go back, pack your father a bag and lock up the house. Is there anything you know he'll want with him?"

"Can't think of anything, Ziva," he pulled the key to his father's house off his key chain, "Here's the key for the front door… Ziva, you don't have a car here!"

"We'll take care of it, Tim," this from Gibbs, "you get going and don't worry about the house. What about Penny and Sarah, do they need a call?"

"Yeah, but I'll have to do that, Boss." Tim's voice faltered and he felt Tony's hand on his other shoulder. "They don't even know he's ill, he kept putting it off and he ordered me not to tell them." Pulling himself up straight and pushing his shoulders back without disturbing either of the comforting hands, he took a moment to relish the support of his team. He had been missing them, now he was glad he had had these few minutes with them before…before whatever was going to happen.

"You ok to drive?" asked Vance. "My car and driver are available, McGee."

"Thank you, sir, but I'll be ok. This could very well be a "hiccup"; I might have him back home again tonight or tomorrow." He turned to face his family, not noticing that the young girl and her parents had been spirited off by someone during his call.

"Thanks guys, I'll be all right."

"Tim, you call me if you need anything _and_ when you know something – that's an order, son."

"Yes, Boss."

Tim left the squad room, feeling simultaneously 30 years older and 30 years younger, both extremes in marked contrast to his happy entrance just a few minutes before.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7 **

Arriving uneventfully at the hospital, he parked and walked in, stopping at the information desk. His father was still being examined, but a room had already been assigned to him on the oncology ward. Following directions given by a helpful volunteer, Tim made his way up to the particular floor, heading for the nurses' station, hoping for an update. He was told his father wouldn't be settled into his room for about an hour, he was still undergoing a breathing treatment and further exam. He left his card with the nurses, asking if they would contact him if anything changed, he had a few phone calls to make.

Walking down the stairs this time, he tried not to think of the call he had to make. He was dreading this conversation with Penny; she had every right to be angry with both her son and grandson. Taking a deep breath, he mentally "manned up" as his father would say. Tim has always thought that phrase was misleading and demeaning as he'd met many women who were as strong as or stronger than many men he'd met. He paused in the lobby, thinking about what Penny would say about that phrase and then gave himself a mental Gibbs-slap, although he was grateful for the very brief respite from the weight of the call.

Stepping outside, he rolled his shoulders and stood straight as he accessed one of his apps to see what time it was on the Greek island he knew his grandmother and sister were visiting this week. Squinting at the time difference, he shrugged, there was no more time to waste, they needed to be told so they could make decisions. Pressing the contact button for his grandmother, he waited through several rings until he heard Penny's sleepy voice.

"Timothy, sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you hurt, oh no, is this really Gibbs or Tony, something's happened to my grandson?"

"It's Tim, Penny and nothing's wrong with me. I'm sorry to be calling at this hour and with what I'm about to tell you. Dad is very ill. I'm at Bethesda now, he's just been brought in by ambulance. He has cancer, Penny, stage 4 and it's getting worse. He's put off telling you, telling anyone for months. I wouldn't know except he got caught up in a case and he had to tell Gibbs during Interrogation."

"Oh my Lord, my poor John. Honey, has he let you in at all? How's his outlook?"

"He's fighting it as only he can, Penny, but you know how stubborn he is, he was "too busy" with his career to see the doctor when he should have. And yeah, we've spent a lot of time together, we've managed to patch things up."

"And you've been handling everything with him alone, my darling boy. We're on a small island with no commercial airport, Timothy, we'll have to catch a ferry to get back to the mainland, and it doesn't leave until nearly midnight. Unless I can somehow find a private plane."

"Tell me exactly where you are, Penny, and while you pack, I'll see if what I can do from this end. Dad won't be in his room for another 45 minutes anyway. I'll call you back in 30 minutes and we can compare notes, ok?"

"Yes, dear, that works fine. Sarah's just waking up, so she can help me."

"Love you both, talk to you in a few minutes." Hanging up, he sagged with relief, then straightened up again. He could think of a couple of people who might have some contacts to help his family get home faster. When his first call went to voicemail, he left a quick message and then called Ducky who answered on the first ring.

"Hello dear boy, I heard your father is in hospital, is there any news or any way I can help?"

"I only know he's being given a breathing treatment and assigned a room, so he'll be staying over one night at least. But Ducky, I'm hoping you might be able to help in another way. " Quickly Tim filled him in on Penny and Sarah's situation.  
"Hmm, let me make a couple of phone calls, Timothy, I have a friend who has a friend…"

"Thanks, Ducky, I appreciate that and I know Penny will too."

"I'll give you a call back in a few minutes to let you know of any progress." Ducky said as he clicked off.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8**

Tim sighed in relief to have somebody else working his contacts to find a quicker way home for his family. After a brief look at his watch, he started scrolling through his apps, looking for any useful information. He found a flight from Athens to DC that had seats available; he tagged the flight but didn't book anything, waiting to hear back from Ducky, talk with Penny and also talk with Ziva, who had been his first call. He remembered that her friend Monique had left Columbia and traveled to somewhere in the Mediterranean, although he wasn't at all sure she was someone he'd trust with Penny and his little sister. As he paced around the outside of the hospital, his phone chimed with the tone for Ziva.

"Hi Ziva! Thanks for calling back, have a bit of a situation here. Do you have a couple of minutes?"

"Yes, Timothy, but I already know the situation, I was in Autopsy just after you spoke with Ducky and when I heard your message thought that might be why you were calling me as well." She took a breath. "Ducky and I are working on our contacts to locate a private plane that can fly Penny and Sarah to Athens or Rome for the trip home. We decided to bring Gibbs, Tony and Vance into the picture as well; we are each working on it."

For the first time since hearing the voice of the EMT on his phone, Tim felt his eyes moisten. He knew they were family, but this was seriously going above and beyond. His voice caught as he tried to thank Ziva. She replied with the rule they had learned from Mike Franks.

"It is the unspoken rule, is it not, Timothy, what one does for family. Now, we will coordinate our information and call you with the best options as soon as we can. Are you doing all right? "

"Yes, Ziva, I'm just blown away by my family. All of my family. Gotta go, Penny's calling."

He switched over to Penny's call, "I'm here, Penny. Have you been able to find out anything?"  
"It's not Penny, it's me, Timmy. How's Dad, have you heard anything new?"  
"Hi Sarah, no, nothing new, the nurses said they'd call if there was news or they brought him to his room early."  
"'K, Penny wants to know if you're at the hospital by yourself and to tell you that we've struck out trying to get off the island any earlier than the ferry tonight."  
Tim felt his throat start to close up again, "I'm only physically alone, Sarah, my friends and family are holding me together. I love you guys so much you know that, right? And my team, they're amazing; Sarah, do you know each of them, including Director Vance, is working to find you a way home – or at least to Athens or Rome? I should know more within about 15 minutes."  
"Timmy, we love you and we love Dad. Are you going to be ok being alone with him until we get there?"  
"Absolutely, Sis. We've put all the crap behind us and have been spending a lot of time together. I'll tell you about it when you get here."

"K, we're packed and have already checked out, but can stay in our room til tonight. The front desk has alerted the local taxi driver that we might need him."

"Good, that's good. Look, Ducky's calling; let me see what he's got and I'll call back with whatever information I get." Tim heard his sister's agreement before he ended that call, switching to Ducky.  
"Hi Ducky, sorry, was talking with Sarah. Don't tell me you've come up with something already!"

"Yes, we have, lad!" Ducky said proudly, "it's amazing what we can do when we put our heads together. What we have is a unique situation; Gibbs has a friend, Nick, with a plane that is currently at a small airport in southern Italy, just outside Brindisi. Nick, however, is not with his plane; he's quite a distance away. _My_ friend, Matthew, however, is in the same vicinity as Nick, has a fast car and also a pilot's license. Bottom line, Matthew will transport Nick to his plane and both will take the plane to rescue the ladies. Both are qualified pilots, they're happy to help and have agreed to work together to bring our Penny and Sarah to Rome, which will be a bit faster flight home than a flight from Athens. Both men are trustworthy. Timothy, I know you will worry but rest assured both Jethro and I will vouch for our friends."

Tim thanked him profusely, got the estimated time of arrival, as the 2 men were already on their way to the plane, found a flight from Rome that gave them enough time to fly back from the island plus a good safety cushion, then called his grandmother with the news. Penny and Sarah were grateful to hear the news as they were anxious to start their journey home. While Tim and Penny spoke, Sarah used her phone to book the flight from Rome to DC. That dealt with, Tim turned back toward the hospital, satisfied with the arrangements. He also was resigned to the fact that he would worry, as Ducky had predicted, until he saw them in person. Just as he approached the entrance, his phone buzzed with a text from Ziva. If he sent her the flight number from Rome, Gibbs would pick up the women and bring them to the hospital. Tim sat down on a bench and took some deep breaths, feeling overwhelmed with an odd mixture of love and anxiety.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Four Weeks Later -

Gibbs paused in his sanding as he heard the familiar purr of a German made engine pull into his driveway. He'd expected this, had hoped Tim would come to him. He had reminded him of his open door as they left the service earlier that day. He knew that Tim had insisted on riding along when Tony had driven Tim's mother and her husband to the airport after the service today. Now he waited for the man he thought of as his younger surrogate son to get himself from car to house. After several minutes, he headed upstairs and stood at the front door. When Tim spotted him, he finally moved from his car. As his boss suspected, his eyes were red and swollen, and the young man looked like he'd been through hell. This was true, really, considering the whirlwind of events over the last several weeks.

Penny, facing the loss of her only child, obviously felt every one of her years as John battled his last fight. Sarah, too young to be losing her father, barely functioned. It fell to Tim to handle not only the death of the father with whom he'd just reconciled but also those last wishes they had talked about at the cottage. Gibbs and Ducky saw what was happening and arranged a rotation so that Tim always had someone to support him, whether it be sitting in the Admiral's room, making sure each of them left the hospital for some fresh air every day, bringing the family food or accompanying them to the cafeteria, even just being available by phone.

Gibbs had worried about Ziva participating in this with her own father's recent death, but she had insisted and Ducky thought it might be good for her, to allow her some way to express some of her own grief. Tony was right there with his friend; as often as he could be he was there with Tim. He stopped by in the mornings on a rather circuitous way to work, bringing Tim coffee and his favorite donuts with sprinkles. Vance had offered to help in any way he could, however he soon realized his own grief was too fresh to allow visits to the hospital, his young children needed him and the Director quickly found other ways to help. He handled the electronic searches on a few cases that required someone of Tim's expertise rather than Cybercrimes, checked in with Tim frequently throughout any given week, looked the other way when members of his top team came in late, left early or disappeared for an hour or so during the day and took the MCRT off rotation the last few days of John McGee's life. Ducky assured him that Tim would have been horrified to take any of the Director's little free time away from his children and that his help was greatly appreciated as given.

Ducky took some time off to support Penny; their special friendship still warm enough that she allowed him to help her. He and Jimmy also translated medical terminology for the McGees, keeping up with the doctors and medical staff on John's deteriorating condition. Breena pitched in with meals, supportive phone calls, running errands, whatever she could find to do. Abby, having lost her own father at too young an age did her best to reach out to Sarah, with some degree of success. Tim was relieved to have someone who could relate so readily to Sarah and Sarah was relieved to have someone who understood from a daughter's perspective.

Ziva, however, was Tim's constant; she was with him before and after work and frequently curled up with him to sleep on the lone sofa in the Admiral's hospital room. Gibbs noticed the change in their relationship; however, he decided to leave the issue alone for now. Who knew what would happen when John McGee passed away, they all had enough stress now as it was, he had no desire to make it any worse. The Team Leader also made it a point to spend time with Tim nearly every day, whatever time he finally made it to the hospital.

That first week, by the time Gibbs delivered Penny and Sarah from their long trek home, Tim had located the good coffee, much to his boss's relief. For years now, it had been a source of amusement to Gibbs that whatever differences there might be between the two of them, they shared a love for the rich dark nectar the others thought of as a close relative to tar. Unlike most areas of the hospital, the oncology department allowed family to stay, there were no set visiting hours as long as no one upset the patients or the medical routines. That helped the McGees' support team considerably as they could come and go depending on their workload.

The Admiral's death came quickly, although they had known for a few days that time had run out. By then Tim had made the necessary arrangements for both the services his father had requested. First there was a small service for the family, including the extended NCIS family, at the cottage where John had so recently reconnected with his son, leaving it nearly too late. There John McGee was laid to rest, in a freshly dug grave in the old cemetery, next to his grandparents.

A few days later a larger, public memorial service was held at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis. That one had been expected by his Naval peers, including Secretary of the Navy Jarvis. While Jarvis had not visited, he had spoken with John a few times during his weeks in the hospital; Penny had asked him to speak at her son's final service. Speak he did, of the years he had known John McGee, of his dedication to his country and the service he was so proud of and lastly of the change in the Admiral recently, when he re-connected with his son. Jarvis told of his last conversation with John, how he had asked the Secretary to mention the pride John had in both his children and how humbled he felt that they had succeeded without much help from him.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

That public service had been held this morning and now Gibbs figured Tim could finally get some rest and let go. As he rested his hand on Tim's shoulder, he looked in the car and fished out Tim's go bag.  
"You stay here tonight, Tim. Need to get some rest."  
Tim just nodded, barely holding on through his physical and emotional exhaustion. He let his boss guide him up the stairs, into the house.  
"You eaten anything since this morning?"

Tim shook his head, "Not hungry, Boss."

"You need to eat, son. I'll fix you some eggs and toast, something light."

Tim gave him a tired smile, "Thanks Boss, glad I could come here. Didn't think I could stand being alone tonight, wasn't sure I'd be decent company for…anyone. Know you don't care if I don't want to talk."

Gibbs put his go bag on the floor by the couch; then headed off to the kitchen.

"Want fried or scrambled eggs, Tim?"  
"Scrambled, Boss, please, I'm like Tony, can't stand the yolks looking like eyeballs."

Stifling a laugh at his two boys, Gibbs quickly made toast and scrambled eggs for his youngest. While he was cooking, he thought of the irony of the team's two youngest members losing both their errant fathers within a few months of each other. While his father, the oldest of them all, kept chugging along quite happily. No dangerous or high stress job for him and he was going to outlive the lot of them. Gibbs made a mental note to ask Jack down soon for a visit; it would do both Tim and Ziva a world of good and maybe his dad would find out what was going on with those two. Abby and Tony would like it too, the two of them always found plenty to yak about with Jack.

Putting both plates, his mug of coffee and a glass of juice for Tim onto a tray, he carried it into the living room to find Tim sagging back into the couch, not quite asleep. When he didn't respond to his boss's presence, Gibbs gently set the tray on the coffee table and called out, "McGee, report!"

That got an immediate response and Tim sat up, eyes wide open. Gibbs smirked at him as he joined him on the couch and handed over his plate. Gibbs cleared his own plate and returned to the kitchen, in need of more coffee. When he returned, he found Tim's plate sliding to the floor, the young man slumped back on the couch, finally asleep. Gibbs caught the plate, putting it back on the tray and then carefully swung the young man's legs up onto the couch, tucked a pillow under his head, removed his shoes and noticed a blanket looking thing peeking out from Tim's go bag. Taking it gently out of the bag, he saw it was an old-fashioned quilt and noticed initials and a date embroidered on the back.

Sitting on the coffee table, he watched to make sure Tim had not wakened, softly rubbing his thumb in circles over his forehead. He thought about what John McGee had asked of him, he remembered telling him he would have done it anyway, but would be more than happy to reinforce the progress John had made in his own redemption.

Leaning forward, he whispered in Tim's ear, "You've been the best son anyone could ask for… your dad told me that and I'll tell you again when you're awake, as many times as you need to hear it. For now, let yourself sleep. So proud of you, son, you did good."

Reaching over, he covered Tim with the quilt. Tim, unconsciously feeling the warmth, smiled in his sleep as he dreamt of himself as a small boy playing at the edge of the water, watched over by his father from under the umbrella.

_Final Phoof_

_NCIS NCIS NCIS_

_I hope you've all enjoyed this visit with Tim and our NCIS family. Just wanted to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited! You've made my debut as a posted writer a wonderful experience. _


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